


night shift

by epicallyducky



Category: youtube - Fandom
Genre: AU, M/M, and yep it's mark, jack has a huge ass crush on the cute guy who works in the convenience store
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 00:51:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6099456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epicallyducky/pseuds/epicallyducky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>is this how Jack <i>really</i> wants to spend the rest of his evenings?</p>
            </blockquote>





	night shift

**Author's Note:**

> i'm laughing bc this is shit

The sound of change being fondled echoes down the empty sidewalk, and the Irishman wonders if he should have worn cologne –and not wonders about the possibility of being mugged so late at night.

_Priorities._

He knows that he’ll reach his destination when he turns the next left corner. It’s a mystery how no one has ever asked him why he would always be out headed to the same place at the same time every night; then again who would see you walking to some crappy convenience store at eleven in the evening?

Oh yeah, that’s right –absolutely no one.

Well, only because it was such a small town. He knows that he could drop by in the day time, but that was the thing, it was such a small town that this was the _only_ convenience store in it. Hell, everyone on his apartment’s floor drink the exact same coffee every damn day.

The automatic doors slide open for him and the cool air that hits his face when he steps inside relaxes him. Elevator music floats around his space, but he can hear a more-familiar sound from one side of the store. He feels his shoulders lower a bit; when had he been tense?

His eyebrows furrow when he notices the other music getting louder, accompanied by the sound of metal rattling. It’s not just any rattling metal, either.

“Hey, Jack!” a voice calls out to him, and a blurred figure passes in front of him. He stares down the aisle to see the same figure move swiftly and cautiously in between aisle after aisle.

“Mark?” Jack’s voice is laced in confusion and he walks deeper into the store.

Was that a _shopping cart?_

Before he could reach the third aisle, Mark –riding at the front of a cart filled with crates to keep everything balanced, screeches to a halt before him and it makes Jack jump.

The brunet looks the other man over head-to-toe. His eyes land on the plastic nametag and etched into it was a name he’s taken time to etch into his mind, as well. He decides to raise an eyebrow at the owner of said-nametag.

“What are you doing?” He asks; his hand tightens around the loose change in his pocket.

Mark laughs, and Jack swears he can feel himself sweating. They should really level-up the fucking air-conditioning in this place. Or maybe Jack just needs to stop wearing hoodies and sweaters.

“I was riding the cart, stupid.” Jack watches as Mark steps down from the small ledge at the bottom of the cart. The employee then starts smoothing out his uniform’s shirt and readjusting its collar.

Placing his hands on his hips when he’s done, Mark looks over to Jack, asking “Are you here for your usual purchase of oranges and potatoes?” He has an eyebrow raised at him, amused. Jack’s other hand flies out to scratch the back of his neck.

“Uh yeah; thanks.” He says, breaking eye contact. Mark laughs again as he turns around to get the things Jack needed.

You see, Mark had started packing and bagging the things Jack needed before he even reached the store. Jack has been putting the oranges-and-potatoes routine on a loop for a few weeks now, and Mark has never said anything about it before, save for now. The fact that Jack has actually stopped needing to get the things himself made him feel like a complete asshole, if you asked him.

Jack catches Mark from the corner of his eye walking to the counter and he turns to follow him. When he gets there, he takes his hand out of his pocket and –unsurprisingly to Mark, gently puts down a whole fistful of coins on the counter. Mark sighs, but he never actually minds.

Jack was way too _easy_ , Mark thought.

“So,” Mark started, sliding the coins from one side of the counter to another as he began to count them. “Why do you always buy so many oranges and potatoes? And why do you never have any bills on you?”

It takes Jack a while to think up an answer. The phone next to the cash register starts playing a different song and a small smile tugs at the ends of Jack’s mouth. _Death by Glamour,_ he hums in his mind, and he starts tapping his fingers lightly to the beat.

“I visit my mum on the weekends, when I can. The oranges are for her because she always complains about how she could never grow any in her garden.” Jack says fondly. It was actually true; he didn’t need to make up a story for Mark.

Jack doesn’t notice how Mark had lost count of the coins. Mark starts again.

“And, like, I just really love potatoes.” The Irishman says suddenly and the two start laughing like goddamn school children. Jack would like to think that the look Mark sends him from across the counter meant something, but if he was going to be realistic, he’d say it didn’t.

Jack watches as Mark counts the coins one by one and he’s grateful they’re the only two people in the entire store. How Mark stays consistently cheerful all the time, he’ll never know. He must get some pretty good shuteye during the day time. He sees Mark shift in his place.

“So, the change?” Mark asks, not looking up at Jack. He wasn’t prepared for this question. Can’t he pass?

“Well if anything,” Jack starts, clearing his throat, “it makes me stay longer.” He blurts out and –shit. Mark still isn’t looking at him.

“Uh huh.” Mark’s almost finished counting the coins. For once, Jack wishes he would hurry up.

“You know, Jack.” The Irishman lifts his head up to look at Mark; a signal to continue.

“If you really wanted to talk and hang out, you could’ve just asked.” Mark shrugs and Jack almost splutters. He settles for coughing, instead.

“And since _you’re_ not going to ask, I’ll do it myself.” Jack watches as Mark finishes counting the last of the coins and leaves the extra ones next to Jack’s elbow rested on the counter. Mark delicately places the oranges and potatoes in a paper bag and he finally looks at Jack when he slides the bag over.

“Do you want to go have coffee tomorrow? Well –later?” Mark puts a hand on his hip and looks at him expectantly with a blank –but soft expression. Jack spares a glance at the wall clock behind Mark; it reads 12:05.

All Jack could muster was a nod.

“Great. Drop by when my shifts over. Around eight,” The American gently nudges the bag towards Jack again and he takes it into his arms this time.

“It’s a date, then.” Jack says, and he had honestly never thought this would be a thing happening in his life. He turns to leave when he stops mid-turn.

He looks back at Mark, “Won’t you be tired since you’ll be right out of your shift, though?” he asks and Mark smiles a bit while shaking his head.

“I’ll be with you, Jack. I won’t get tired.” He states, and Jack hates how smoothly it came out.

Jack doesn’t notice the small skip in his stride on the walk home.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm still laughing bc it's shit
> 
> but also bc it's 2 am


End file.
